Thrown overboard and washed ashore onto a hostile island ruin filled with wanderers, relics, and monstrous creatures, you find yourself alone with nothing except the breath in your lungs, an undaunted spirit, and a tarnished past pleading to be rewritten.
Your banishment here was a gift — a blank parchment awaiting fresh ink.
However, the true penance for your past transgressions is a future of uncertainty. Overgrown and untamed, this place is distraught and unforgiving — there are no more treacherous places to be discarded in recorded history. An island, completely inescapable, and home to abominations and roaming horrors never imagined by the human mind.
Indeed, this dark land is itself undead — living decay — it’s ruined towers crumbling and perishing—like the dim memory of the great souls who governed here eons ago. That magic is long dead — it’s light extinguished during the devastation.
Now savage and dreadful, this soil is tainted, like the fragmented few who have learned to survive here — the Clan, the Brotherhood, and the Order. Regardless of one’s ideology or predispositions, alliances must be struck to ensure each new day, each new breath. Indeed, none survive here alone.
Now, as of this moment, you and the island are one. Broken yet undaunted, you share the same spirit, and perhaps the same fate. It is an unending dance of despair and hope. Together, you gather yourselves with nothing except the pulsing heartbeat of the island, the breath in your lungs, and a tarnished past pleading to be rewritten.